Zion National Park
TL;DR:
Fitz Cahall: "Type III fun is never fun while you're doing it, you often feel your life is threatened, certain doom is usually at hand, and half the time it ends in a harrowing rescue. Afterwards, you swear to never attempt anything similar ever again"
GG: "I think we were maybe one bad weather event away from type III fun."
Awards and Superlatives:
MVP: GG, for heroically learning how to aid sandstone while on lead.
Deepest Shame: CR, for almost maiming herself and destroying the rope with a death block
Deepest Shame runner up: GG, for dropping copious aid gear on CR, and excessive swearing
Chapter 1: Aid leading on the first day
Progress has slowed above me, on the first pitch, a C1+/C2 affair. Don't ask me what that means, I'm not sure, only that it's worse than aid we've done before.
'i don't think i like aid climbing' calls GG.
'Me neither,' I call up. Solidarity.
Progress resumes, slower than before. A steady stream of profanity issues from above me. It doesn't seem too urgent so I tone it out.
I hear GG shriek. This seems important. I look up, to notice a large object falling from the sky. GG? The lead line is still slack. Poof! It hits the ground with a puff of dirt. Ah, it's an aid ladder and some gear.
'crap.' says GG, quietly.
GG leads 2/3 aid pitches and calls it good enough.
Chapter 2: Cleaning and fixing the aid pitches
There's this amazing moment that happens with some frequency in climbing. You find yourself in a precarious position, unable to move up or down, and out of shouting range to other humans. You realize-you're going to have to fix this mess. And somehow you always do!
you spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round round round. GG's mashups are stuck in my head.
Tourists are taking pictures of us from the road. With goddamn tripods.
Later, GG says "yeah I heard some sounds, but i figured there was nothing I could do to help."
We tie the rope to the pitch 2 anchors and rap down and get crepes.
Chapter 3: We accidentally commit to the full route
At 6am on day 2, we're getting coffee from a gas station when the cashier's computer fails. It takes her a few extra minutes to ring us up.
'Well hopefully that'll be the worst part of your day,' she says cheerily. I think this is some kind of deeply ironic foreshadowing.
Our commute to work, as it is, is to ascend ~ 250 ft of rope to the start of pitch 3. It's cold and I start out in a puffy jacket, gloves, a hat. 15 feet later I am pouring sweat. I can go no more than about 15 feet at a time before I'm out of breath. I make it to the anchor and wait for GG. Sweat is still pouring down my back.
By the time GG reaches the anchor I am a shivering icicle and both of my legs have gone numb in my harness.
Pitch 4 is finally my lead pitch, so I act like I'm free climbing and start up a 5.10 crack. It's rough with all the extra gear and I cheat and pull my way through several crux sections. The climbing is so engaging that I don't notice that I'm sure paying out a lot of rope. More than half, in fact.
Trying to get control pressure's taking it's toll.... It wasn't love, it wasn't love, it was a perfect illusion! I think I hate climbing.
GG quickly transitions to following and tries to climb the pitch in good style, but slips on the gear sling near the 10c crux and falls hard onto the rope. More profanity ensues. The gear sling continues to strangle and hinder him, and by the time he makes it to the belay, he's less than amused.
'Great news!' I say, artificially positive. "We don't have enough rope to retreat, so we're going all the way over the top today!"
I put our odds of getting benighted at 60/40 for.
Chapter 4: Bailing upwards.
The lead/follow weight inflexion point: The weight of the rack in lbs at which both partners would rather lead pitches and not have to carry the excess rack as a second.
We all know that climbing is a strength to weight ratio. But what happens when you suddenly put on 30 pounds over night? No, not in cupcakes, but rather in AID RACK. What happens is that you become a terrible climber.
At pitch 5 GG and I both appear to become extremely courteous and helpful. 'I'll lead your next pitch for you,' I offer generously. "No, I've got it," says GG, "As long as you will carry the AID RACK'
On pitch 8 I actually pull on a quickdraw to avoid a 5.7 move. A 5.7 MOVE!!!
As the sun fades, we're rapping down a canyon filled with sand and loose blocks. I free the rope from a tree, and relax a little, thinking the rest of this rap will be straightforward. I'm bracing my foot against the base of a large block when the block, about the size of a microwave, cuts away from the wall and lands in my lap.
I let go of the rope and try and swat the block away from me. The autoblock on my rope catches in my ATC and brings the rappel to a halt. The block somehow misses most of my body and bounces down only to land on top of the rope on a small ledge below me.
I'm sure that the block has damaged our rope, so I slowly descend to check the damage. The block is highly unstable on its sandy ledge, but somehow, against all odds, none of its weight is on our rope. I gingerly free the rope and feed it down past the block. We move on.
I don't want to live, but I sure don't want to die. I'm stuttering again, and telling her goodbye! Oh My my My! Goodbye bye bye!
On the last rappel, we find a dead bighorn sheep in the canyon. It must have fallen from the walls above, or been washed down by a flood. it seems like a warning.
Epilogue
We coil our rope in darkness and retreat back to the car. We check into a comfort inn. We go to Al's Burgers and get shakes and chicken tenders and cheeseburgers and fries. We know that in some other universe, CR and GG are huddled on top of cerberus gendarme, under our two person space blanket, sharing half a liter of water and a clif bar. Maybe we've built a fire with our lighter. Maybe we've burned the aid gear in anger. But, the stars are spectacular.
